Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Simple Man ❯ Wanted Dead or Alive ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Faia Saiyajin 
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Martial Arts / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.12.2002 | Pages: 6 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 297 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Martial Arts / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.12.2002 | Pages: 6 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 297 | Status: Completed
title: Wanted Dead or Alive
author: Faia Saiyajin
rating:
series: Cowboy Bebop
song: "Wanted Dead or Alive" - Bon Jovi ((::fan girlish squeal::))
--You know the drill. I don't own the song or the characters.
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"It's all the same
Only the names will change
Everyday it seems we're wasting away
Another place
Where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night
Just to get back home"
Somewhere, floating around Mars' orbit, a ship floats. The fishing trawler known as the Bebop, drifts serenely in the coldness of space. The mood inside, however, differs greatly from the peacefulness outside.
"THAT CUE-BALL HEADED BASTARD!!! HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?!"
"Faye, take it easy."
"SHUT... oh.. oww." Faye put a hand to her head. All her yelling had given her a ferocious headache. She stood over the desk, Jet's note a crumpled little ball in her palm. "I can't believe he left." She plopped down in the chair, crossing one long leg over the other.
"I can. If he had to put up with you and you alone for three days, he's earned some shore leave." Spike Speigel muttered, sitting square in the middle of the couch, gangly arms and legs sprawled. He was barefoot, his feet on the table. His usual blue suit was in the wash, leaving him in a pair of red-polka-dot boxer shorts.
"Shove it, lunkhead." Came the retort, a wad of paper bouncing off his green hair.
Spike grinned a shit-eating grin, and lit a cigarette. He took several long drags. "Ah... that's good."
***cue neato-screen-wavy-thing for Spike's flashback***
And so it was. Vicious was dead, and he was still alive. Spike's brow furrowed a moment. He didn't remember the events very well. He had come to just once, while he lie in the rain. A shock of brown hair, and a soft voice calling "Spike-senpai!" Then nothing. The next time he had regained consciousness, he was at the Doc's, bandaged, and sore as all hell. He was laid-up for a day and a half, which he hated.
The instant he was able to stand and walk without getting nauseous, he was out the door, headed for the first bar he could find. That's what he needed. A few drinks in a dark, smoky bar, along with a nice relaxing game of pool. He'd be on his way in no time.
He had reckoned that he was alone now. The way he'd left the Bebop so abruptly, it had practically sealed his fate.
His life seemed so ...empty... There was nothing left for him to accomplish. The Red Dragons were no more. And so many lives had gone with it. Mao. Annie. Lin and Shin. Vicious. And Julia.
Julia... His white cat. She had died like she had lived. Without choice.
Two days had passed, and he had practically lived in the poolroom. He'd been there so long that he'd been given a job as the bartender for the graveyard shift.
That's when a certain violet-haired, seductive gambler walked in, looking to spend some hard-earned cash.
"I'm just a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or alive
Wanted
Dead or alive"
Spike was behind the bar, actually below it, cleaning up a mess of shattered glass and Wild Turkey. It was playing hell with his injuries, being crouched down, as he swept up the shards, and mopped up the booze.
"Ah hell..." he growled, hearing another patron enter, and sit at the bar.
"Oh bartender..." her voice was low, husky. This one was out to play.
"Yeah yeah.." He grunted. "Be with you in a minute." He dumped the glass into the trashcan, and tossed the rag into the sink below the bar. With great effort, he stood, smoothing out his blue jeans and white dress shirt. It didn't matter anyway. The shirt was half-untucked, a blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. One point on his collar stood straight up, brushing against his cheek. No matter how hard he tried, Spike Speigel would always look disheveled. "What can I ...ho-lee shit." He was looking at the back of Faye Valentine's head. She was leaning on the bartop, her right elbow resting on the iron rail that edged the bar.
Currently she was making eyes at a scruffy-looking fellow, who was making them right back, before he sunk the 9 ball into the corner pocket. She heard the bartender, and turned around. Miss Valentine lost her composure right then and there.
"SPIKE?!"
"Faye." Spike raised a brow.
"YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" She shrieked, standing straight up. Her jaw dropped open for a moment or two, as Spike picked up a glass, and began to clean it with a rag, his nonchalant manner never faltering.
Another glass broke, this time from Spike dropping it, as Faye dove over the bar, wrapping her arms around his waist. His face contorted in a rictus of pain, as every injury he had sustained practically sang. "Spike, you're alive!" Faye let her joy show only for a moment. She then reverted to her normal bossy, crass manner. "You ASSHOLE!" She snapped, standing behind the bar, her face inches from his. Her hands shook, as she balled them into fists, her arms rigid at her sides. Spike was backed into the proverbial corner, the shelves of drinks pressing into his back. He raised his hands in defense.
"What?!"
"WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Faye yelled, every person in the bar turning to look at her.
"Right now, I wish I was." He muttered, his eyes averted.
"You at least should have called. Jet and I are worried sick." Spike looked at her in disbelief. "Why didn't you use your com?"
Spike withdrew the communicator from his back pocket. It was smashed to pieces. He held it up as evidence, a look of 'What now, Miss Thang?' on his face.
"Well fine." She huffed, crossing her arms.
"Gee Faye... I'm glad to see you, too." He ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. It was a weight off his chest to know that he wasn't completely alone.
"You baka! Incompetent, lunkheaded, fuzzy-haired baka." Faye's eyes welled with tears.
"I'm ...sorry... Faye." That was his soft spot. Dames cryin'. He didn't mean to hurt her. But then again, he didn't mean to hurt Julia. Spike looked at his shoes for a long while. "I'd figured that you guys had left me behind."
"We didn't know if you were dead or alive! Why would we desert you?"
Spike was amazed by her emotion. He didn't know what to do at that moment. So he put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, tears threatening to fall. "Faye..." he sighed. This was tough. "...thanks. ...for ...caring. I guess..."
Faye blinked rapidly. Whoa! Had he suffered some sort of personality-reordering head-trauma? First he apologized, now he was thanking her! He was such an ass. But she cared for him. Couldn't help herself. She smiled.
"Uh... Faye.. ggrmph!" Spike was caught-off guard as she stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. What in the hell had he done to merit this?!
"Mmm... you're welcome.." She smiled sexily, their noses practically touching.
Spike was still stunned. He'd appreciated the display of affection, sure, but this was freakin' him out something fierce. That was when two long, pointy fingernails found the wound in his side, and jabbed. HARD. Spike screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
"BUT YOU'RE STILL AN ASSHOLE!!!"
***cue neato-screen-wavy-thing for end of Spike's flashback***
"Sometimes I sleep
Sometimes it's not for days
And people I meet
Always go their separate ways"
On Ganymede, at the Waterfront Bar, Jet sat, finally able to relax in what seemed like years. An empty glass was in front of him, ice cubes clinking and shifting as they melted.
Jet leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. He had arrived on Ganymede an hour ago, and this was his destination. The Waterfront Bar was where he'd had his first drink as a young man. This was where he'd made his decision to join the ISSP.
Angelina, the barmaid, waved at him. "Need anything else, Jet?"
"I'm fine, Angel." He smiled, and nodded.
Angelina was the proprietor of the bar, and had opened it when she was 25. She was in her early fifties, and her hair was a pretty salt-and-pepper gray, with a slight wave to it. She still wore it loose, like she had when it was more strawberry blonde than gray.
"All right. I'll be here if you need me." She smiled, and turned, chatting with a lady who sat at the bar. From his table in front of the bar, Jet watched her. She was one of those people who never changed. No matter what they went through. Angelina had seen people come and go, buildings go up, businesses close. Angel had an ear for blues, a head full of wisdom and advice, and a smile that could light up a room.
The Waterfront was a decent place, a nice escape from the bustle of the business district that was only two blocks down. The entire bar front was glass, letting in the glow of the sunlight that reflected off the Gumble Channel. Gumble Channel was the ferry way between the lower class slums and ghettos, and the shining beacon of the capital city.
All in all, it was a great location, if you wanted to sit down with your buddies and have a few drinks, to either cheer the government, or condemn it. This was middle ground, a halfway house, for blue collar and white collar alike. Angelina served them all, with the same charming, matronly manner she had in her youth. The business ranged from slow and easy-going, to packed, especially on the weekends, after the dayshift got off work. And the real perk was that Angelina's Waterfront was open 24 hours.
Jet loved it here. Peace and quiet, quiet and peace. He took a deep breath, rocking to and fro on the back legs of his chair. "You still cater to smokers here, Angel?" he called, holding up his pack.
"Hell yeah, Jet. Go right ahead, honey." She said eagerly. "Need an ashtray?"
"It'd be nice." he smiled, plucking a cigarette from his pack. He then felt around his pockets for his lighter. "...now where'd I put that damn thing..." he muttered. He didn't have to wonder, as Angel sat an ashtray on the table, and with the other hand, flicked open her lighter. "Thanks." He smiled, cupping her hands between his to light his smoke.
"Anytime, hon. You need another drink?"
"Please. Lao Chu."
"It's about time you ordered that." she laughed, pushing her hair from her face as she went to the bar. "You're the only one around here who drinks this stuff." She fetched a bottle of Lao Chu from the shelf, along with a fresh glass with ice.
"I like my alcohol strong. And it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and have a decent drink." he chuckled.
"I know." She set the bottle and glass down, adding. "Your bed is in the back. I changed the sheets yesterday." Angelina didn't like her patrons to drink, then try to get home. She either taxied them home herself, or had a few cots set up in the back. And Jet was one of her favorite customers.
"Hmm... Must've expected me."
"Yes indeed. I expect you at least once a year."
"That predictable, am I?"
"As the seasons, Mr. Black." Angelina smiled, patting him warmly on his cheek. Jet chuckled a little and flicked an ash off the end of his cigarette. Predictable? Feh. Not hardly. Not in the past few months, anyway.
"You're a doll, Angel." he called after her, popping open the bottle and pouring himself a glass.
"I know, Jet." the woman snickered, fixing a drink for the young lady at the bar, the only other customer. "What've you been up to, lately?"
"Eh... the usual."
"Still a cowboy, eh Jet?" She set the woman's drink down on a cocktail napkin, and smoothed her apron, some sort of odd psychosomatic habit she'd developed over the years.
"Cowboys 're the only men I can respect, in this day and age. Everyone's got a secret agenda, nowadays."
"Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
Sometimes when you're alone
All you do is think"
"You're preachin' to the choir, honey." She snorted, as Jet sipped his booze. He knocked another ash into the ashtray, and sighed, looking out the window.
"You still doin' the same old same old?"
"I'm too old to do anything else, even if Quince wants me to stay at home."
"Quince?"
"My nephew. Juliet's youngest kid." Juliet was Angelina's twin sister, a housewife, with what seemed like a litter of kids, and a slew of grandkids Jet was sure she was working on what would be a crapload of great-grandkids. Angelina and Juliet were as different as night and day. Angelina was single, worked, and did what she pleased. Juliet was the tame one. She'd gotten married to some beaurocrat when she was 18. Had her first daughter when she was 19, and made it a point to spit out another baby every two years. She had something like 10 kids. "He keeps beggin' me to leave the bar to him, and stay in the house. He says that this world isn't made for an old head like me. That there's too much crime. But I keep tellin' him no. I says to him that I can't learn new tricks." The woman looked remorseful for a moment. "I'm old, Jet. Set in my ways. And there was crime in my day. That's when all these mafia bosses were still about violence and stakin' out their turf. That was crime. Didn't a day go by that some scumbag crimelord didn't go under, courtesy of a rival. Now it's quiet, Jet. The syndicates are as old as I am, even older. And they're gettin' complacent in their old age. Not me, though. I'm still goin' strong." A pound of her fist on the bar accented her words. "And I ain't ready to be put out to pasture yet, damnit."
"You 'n me both, Angel." Jet laughed over the rim of his glass. He butted out his cigarette, and rubbed his eyes. To him, Angelina didn't look old. Her gray hair was the giveaway, yes, but other than that, it took a close look to notice. She had faint lines on the corners of her mouth, from that ornery smile she usually wore, and crow's feet on the edges of her blue-gray eyes, once again, from smiling.
Jet was worried about something, and Angelina had an eye for things like this. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, she made her way over to Jet, and pulled up a chair. "Somethin's botherin' you, honey. I haven't seen you act like this since the day you got outta the hospital." Jet glanced at his cybernetic arm.
"Yeah..."
"Tell me what's the matter..." She looked over her shoulder. The other customer was on the way out, slinging her purse over her arm. "Take care, Jezz. Drive safe, now."
"You got it, Angelina." the woman smiled respectfully, and left.
"Okay, Jet. Spill." she commanded in that motherly tone she used for serious situations. "And if you give me any lip I'll give a tug on those big ears of yours." Her threat was playful, accented with a half-smile.
Jet managed a smile, and poured himself another glass of Lao Chu. "All right. But I hope you got time for a story."
"All the time in the world." she nodded, and twisted the cap off of the whiskey. "Be a dear and put another nail in my coffin, would ya, Jet?"
"Sure, Angel." He handed over a cigarette, waited for Angelina to light it, and then began his tale.
Back on the Bebop:
"Where could he be, Spike?" Faye grumbled, sitting on the couch next to him. The pair were sharing a couple of beers and some Chinese take-out, courtesy of Spike. She nibbled nervously on the ends of her chopsticks, after shoveling a portion of brown noodles into her mouth. "I find one, only to have the other vanish. Ugh. Men. So juvenile."
"Ain't we, though?" Spike said, exhaling a puff of smoke. He put his beer down, and stared into space. "Jet just needed some time off, Faye. He'll be back."
"You'd better be right, Fuzzy, or I'll eject your scrawny ass into space."
"Sounds fun."
Faye glared at him, as he wore his usual goofy grin. Now what? "So..."
"So.." Spike knew it was coming. The beginning of the questioning.
"...what happened down there?"
"Another part of me died."
"Spare me the prose, Spike." Faye glowered at him. She didn't feel like hearing him dance around the subject.
"The Dragons' 're no more."
"Vicious?"
"Dead. Killed 'im."
"Oh."
"...Julia... she's dead too." Spike's words had an eerie finality to them, and they hung in the air, like the ghost of the woman he loved.
"Julia?!" Faye's eyes went wide. Julia was dead? Faye saw the image of her. Slender, blonde Julia. Like something out of a beauty magazine. Faye had only known her for a few hours, but still.. it wasn't right. Women weren't meant to die like that. Especially when it was over love.
"Yeah. While we were escaping from Anastasia's." Spike could hear Annie correct him. 'Don't call me that! Only one person can call me by that name.' Her chubby face, followed by Mao's genial, round visage, appeared in his mind. "I told her to get down... but..." Spike nearly choked on his words.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Faye looked at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "Such a sad..."
"It was inevitable, I guess."
"How could you say that?!" Faye blurted, her head snapping up to look at him.
Spike went to respond, but a suddenly yell of "HEELLOOOOOO!!" cut him off. Then there was the alarm.
"What in HELL?" Faye jumped up. Spike went to the computer, where odd clicks and noises were blaring through the speakers.
"...ED?" Spike looked at the screen in disbelief.
"Spike-Person! Edward is happy to see you! Papa Jet said that you had gone for good!" Edward grinned, leaning in close to the computer.
"Yeah... I'm still here. Ain't got rid of me yet." Spike chortled, leaning on one hand, over the desk. "And what are you doing?"
"Edward... and Woof" She was prompted to add Ein's name after a whine came from behind her. "Want to visit Spike-Person, Faye-Faye.." She was cut off by Faye yelling 'ITS JUST FAYE, THANK YOU!'. "And Papa Jet."
"You're on Earth, right?" Spike was prepared to plot a course to the planet.
"Nopers! I'm outsiiiiiiide!"
"How?"
"Edward has hitched a ride-slide-drive to the Beboppy! Thanks to Seeeeeyyyymourr!" She grinned. Spike's mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. "Will Spikey-Wikey open the door to let Ed and Woof-Woof in? Welcome mat!"
"Sure Ed. How far away are you?"
Edward blinked several times. "Edward is here."
He and Faye exchanged glances. "Explains the alarm. They must've come in right along side of us. Ed must have hacked in and put a delay on the proximity buzzer."
"Pain in the ass..." Faye muttered, looking away as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Spike grinned. "Okay, Ed. I'm going to go set up the hatch. I'm sure you'll know when it's ready."
"Right-O, Spikey!" Edward's back went rigid, as her face was nearly swallowed up in a monstrous grin. She saluted, and signed off.
"What a kid..." Spike shook his head, as he wandered over to the control board, making the necessary preparations. Faye remained on the couch, finishing her beer.
"I'm just a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or alive
Wanted
Dead or alive"
A half an hour later, Edward and Ein came racing down the gate connecting one ship to another. "SPIKE-PERSON!!" She howled, the Tomato balanced precariously on her head.
"Hey Ed!" Spike greeted the girl eagerly, stooping to one knee to catch the girl, computer, and dog in his arms. "Fffaaah!! Dog spit!!" Spike howled, as Ein assaulted him with a volley of doggy kisses. He tried to rid himself of the taste of dog food, hair, and breath by scraping his tongue against his teeth. It didn't work. He instantly cursed himself for being so damned sociable.
Faye, watching as Spike carried his odd load into the lounge, shook her head. Spike Speigel, the man who said he hated dogs, kids, and women, was now host to all three 'annoyances'. Amazing how he'd changed. Maybe he had developed a bit more respect for what life entailed.
The Tomato was deposited on the floor, along with Ein, who ran circles around Spike's feet on his nubby legs. Ed still clung to Spike, now hanging for dear life onto... his head.
Ed nuzzled Spike's unruly mop of hair, her arms inhibiting Spike from seeing and probably breathing. Her skinny legs were wrapped around his neck, as Spike tried desperately to pry the sharp-jointed child off. "Ed... there's a little thing called breathing... and I'd really like to keep doing it, if you get me." With one final yank, he pulled Ed off, holding her by the waist. Ed wriggled and writhed like a Sea Serpent from Titon, now locking her arms around his torso. "Gah... Ed..." Spike gave up, throwing his hands in the air.
"Edward has missed Spikey and the Bebop! Reunion-bunion-TURNIP!"
Faye covered her smile with her hand, as Spike walked, stiff legged, Edward's lower half dragging between his legs. "Yeah, I missed you too, Eddo." Spike sighed, reaching for another cigarette.
Edward turned her face up, carving Spike another bellybutton with her pointy chin. "Spikey really missed Edward? Edward is happy!" She let her arms go, and dropped to her rear end, as Spike walked over her, plopping on the couch.
Now it was Faye's turn to be served Edward's special display of caring. Ed, still sitting on her duff, tossed her feet over her head, doing a backwards somersault. When she landed on her bare feet, she turned, and launched herself at Faye, who was helpless to defend.
"ED! Get the HELL off me!!" Faye tried to dislodge Ed, who had enclosed her in a cage of arms and legs.
Spike looked over at her. "Cool it. Just let the kid get it out of her system... EEP!" Spike put his hands in the air, scared shitless, as Ein, in one not-so-gazelle-like leap, jumped into his lap. Spike looked open-mouthed at the dog, who turned around once, and laid down on Speigel's lap. Still holding his precious cigarette aloft, Spike stared angrily at the canine. "Off. Before I take up my promise to eventually salt and eat you." He pointed in the direction of the kitchen, to accent his words.
Ein paid no attention. He just laid his head on his white-socked paws, and watched Faye and Ed, his ears twitching occasionally. Spike was all idle threats to him. Besides, the twerp'd never be able to catch him. And if he did, one solid bite on his nicotine-stained fingers would send him running for cover.
"Faye-Faye-Faye-Faye-Faye... FAYEFAYE!!!" Edward was chanting.
Faye could only endure the embarrassing torment, unsure as to what to do. Spike sneered at her.
"Having fun?"
"Shut up, asshole."
"Admit it. You missed her."
"Did not... OOOF!!" Faye's cheek was smashed ruthlessly, as Edward ground her own cheek against it. "OWW Ed!! Tha' hurz!!" Faye winced under the sharp pain.
Edward drew back, holding onto Faye's shoulders. She looked the woman square in the eyes, her own hazels wide, matching the grin on her face. "Did Faye-Faye miss Edward?"
Ein barked for Faye to respond.
Faye took a deep breath, mostly to keep from strangling Spike, who smirked at her, looking positively gorgeous, in a smartassed, mismatched eyes, green-haired sort of way. "Yes I did, Ed." Faye resigned with a heavy sigh.
"WAAHOOOOO!!" Ed's howl nearly burst Faye's eardrums.
Now that two of the three adults were subject to her affections, Ed perked up on Faye's lap (who still wanted nothing more than to get the skinny kid off her), looking around, the goggles in her bushy hair threatening to slide off. "Where is Papa Vroom Jet?"
"I'm a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or alive
Wanted
Dead or alive"
The Lao Chu was gone. The whiskey wasn't far behind. The ashtray was a graveyard of used butts. And Jet was finished talking. "And now... you know... the rest of the story..." he pressed his fist against his lips, to stifle a belch. His eyes were bloodshot from cigarette smoke and liquor. Jet never let himself get this inebriated. Never. But what the hell. He was on vacation, and he had just told a sob story. You only die once.
"Poor Jet. My poor Jet." Angelina, who could hold her liquor better than any man, nodded sadly, patting his left hand. Jet wouldn't have noticed, had he not been looking at it, or had heard the clink of one of Angel's rings against the metal surface. "So you never found him?"
"Nope." Jet lifted his glass, only to find a puddle of melted ice and runny alcohol. "Damn." he muttered, and plopped the jigger down, the patterns cut into the sides of the heavy glass reflecting the dusky light coming from outside. He'd been here hours. "An' I don't think we'll find him, either..."
"You never know, Jet. Who knows how your karma will turn out." Angelina stood. She put her index finger in her glass, and her middle in Jet's. Pressing them together, she used her ring finger and thumb to support the glasses as she lifted them up. The bottles were carried in nearly the same fashion, her fingers holding the necks like a vise.
"Yeah, true. I don't know. I shouldn't have left, though. Trusting that woman with 40 thousand Woolongs is an accident and bad credit waiting to happen. Hell.. not bad credit. Worse credit." He smiled morosely, as Angelina scurried to the bar, putting the glasses and bottles in their respective places.
The bells attached to the front door rang out in warning, as three men entered the bar. Angelina's head jerked up. Jet was propelled into mock sobriety, his instincts kicking in. He may be only a burned-out cop, but he was still a cop nonetheless.
"Quince?!"
"I'm sorry, Auntie. But you won't listen. It's time for force." the leader said, a shadow built from a trenchcoat and fedora. He looked to the two thugs that flanked him. "Detain them. Use any means necessary."
"Papa Jet is gone?" Ed pouted.
"On vacation." Spike muttered, as Edward sat on the floor, her fingers pressing the keys to the Tomato one by one out of boredom.
"When is Papa coming back? Edward comes all this way to have Papa Jet go buh-byes. Not fair for Edward." Ein whined his agreement.
"I know, Ed." Spike offered no other support.
"A-HA! Edward will find Vroom, then they can go visit!"
"The point of a vacation is to get away from your surroundings. Not have them tag along." Faye growled. A beep from the computer made her look up.
Spike looked at Ed. "Do it. We don't have to visit, but it'll be good to know where he is."
"Yes-SIR!" Ed saluted, as Spike went to the computer.
"Uh...?" Spike blinked at the man who appeared on the communication line, channel 3. "May I help ya?"
The man, dressed in a uniform, looked up from his magazine. It was about time they decided to answer. He folded the book backwards, oogling Miss April for a moment longer. He then looked up, scratching at the corner of his mustache. "Yeah. Is Jet there?"
"He's ..unavailable just yet." Spike lied. He recognized this guy. It was Bob, one of Jet's leads in the ISSP. And when this guy was involved, decent bounties were the result.
"Oh. Well..."
"I'll give him the message. I'm his partner."
"Oh..! You're Spike, eh?" Bob grinned. Spike played along, imitating the man's smile... with a little less enthusiasm.
"Yeah, that's me."
"Well I got a bit of a problem. Syndicate activity. They're an old bunch, but their recent recruits are up to some new tricks."
"Eh?"
"Yeah. They're called the Rising Phoenix. Home base is on Ganymede. ISSP's been cleaning up after them for days now. They're looking for something, what with all the influx of bodies with broken limbs... before they were killed."
Spike winced. These guys were out for information. Or attention. That's usually when they practiced torture. "I'll tell Jet."
"That's the hitch. Jet's got a bounty on his head. Issued by the Rising Phoenix. I don't know how they posted it, but they did. The head official of the syndicate has it out for him." Bob shrugged off-handedly, like he was announcing the weather. A window popped up beside the video link, showing Jet's face, his information, and a 300 Million Woolong bounty. Hot damn. These guys aren't playing.
Spike's eyes nearly bugged from his head. Jet? With a price on his head? That's when he heard Ed.
"Ganny-meeede-meede-meeeeeeeede!!" she hollered, raising her hands in the air. "That's where Papa Jet beez!!"
"Shit." He growled, and looked at Bob, who nodded, and closed the line. Spike stood, a man on a mission. He loosened his tie, and lit another cigarette. He looked at Faye, his eyes hard, his jaw set. "We're going after him. This is serious."
"Allll-riiiiight!!!" Edward sing-songed, as Spike stormed off to the helm.
"I come back from the dead, only to save your ass." Spike huffed, sitting in the seat. He set a course for Ganymede, pushing the MONOsystem to its limits. Time wasn't on his side. "Damnit Jet. You owe me big."
"I walk these streets,
A loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps
Cause I might not make it back
I've been everywhere
Still I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces
And I've rocked them all
I'm a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or Alive"
--Saddle Up, Space Cowboy
author: Faia Saiyajin
rating:
series: Cowboy Bebop
song: "Wanted Dead or Alive" - Bon Jovi ((::fan girlish squeal::))
--You know the drill. I don't own the song or the characters.
-------------------------
"It's all the same
Only the names will change
Everyday it seems we're wasting away
Another place
Where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night
Just to get back home"
Somewhere, floating around Mars' orbit, a ship floats. The fishing trawler known as the Bebop, drifts serenely in the coldness of space. The mood inside, however, differs greatly from the peacefulness outside.
"THAT CUE-BALL HEADED BASTARD!!! HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?!"
"Faye, take it easy."
"SHUT... oh.. oww." Faye put a hand to her head. All her yelling had given her a ferocious headache. She stood over the desk, Jet's note a crumpled little ball in her palm. "I can't believe he left." She plopped down in the chair, crossing one long leg over the other.
"I can. If he had to put up with you and you alone for three days, he's earned some shore leave." Spike Speigel muttered, sitting square in the middle of the couch, gangly arms and legs sprawled. He was barefoot, his feet on the table. His usual blue suit was in the wash, leaving him in a pair of red-polka-dot boxer shorts.
"Shove it, lunkhead." Came the retort, a wad of paper bouncing off his green hair.
Spike grinned a shit-eating grin, and lit a cigarette. He took several long drags. "Ah... that's good."
***cue neato-screen-wavy-thing for Spike's flashback***
And so it was. Vicious was dead, and he was still alive. Spike's brow furrowed a moment. He didn't remember the events very well. He had come to just once, while he lie in the rain. A shock of brown hair, and a soft voice calling "Spike-senpai!" Then nothing. The next time he had regained consciousness, he was at the Doc's, bandaged, and sore as all hell. He was laid-up for a day and a half, which he hated.
The instant he was able to stand and walk without getting nauseous, he was out the door, headed for the first bar he could find. That's what he needed. A few drinks in a dark, smoky bar, along with a nice relaxing game of pool. He'd be on his way in no time.
He had reckoned that he was alone now. The way he'd left the Bebop so abruptly, it had practically sealed his fate.
His life seemed so ...empty... There was nothing left for him to accomplish. The Red Dragons were no more. And so many lives had gone with it. Mao. Annie. Lin and Shin. Vicious. And Julia.
Julia... His white cat. She had died like she had lived. Without choice.
Two days had passed, and he had practically lived in the poolroom. He'd been there so long that he'd been given a job as the bartender for the graveyard shift.
That's when a certain violet-haired, seductive gambler walked in, looking to spend some hard-earned cash.
"I'm just a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or alive
Wanted
Dead or alive"
Spike was behind the bar, actually below it, cleaning up a mess of shattered glass and Wild Turkey. It was playing hell with his injuries, being crouched down, as he swept up the shards, and mopped up the booze.
"Ah hell..." he growled, hearing another patron enter, and sit at the bar.
"Oh bartender..." her voice was low, husky. This one was out to play.
"Yeah yeah.." He grunted. "Be with you in a minute." He dumped the glass into the trashcan, and tossed the rag into the sink below the bar. With great effort, he stood, smoothing out his blue jeans and white dress shirt. It didn't matter anyway. The shirt was half-untucked, a blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. One point on his collar stood straight up, brushing against his cheek. No matter how hard he tried, Spike Speigel would always look disheveled. "What can I ...ho-lee shit." He was looking at the back of Faye Valentine's head. She was leaning on the bartop, her right elbow resting on the iron rail that edged the bar.
Currently she was making eyes at a scruffy-looking fellow, who was making them right back, before he sunk the 9 ball into the corner pocket. She heard the bartender, and turned around. Miss Valentine lost her composure right then and there.
"SPIKE?!"
"Faye." Spike raised a brow.
"YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" She shrieked, standing straight up. Her jaw dropped open for a moment or two, as Spike picked up a glass, and began to clean it with a rag, his nonchalant manner never faltering.
Another glass broke, this time from Spike dropping it, as Faye dove over the bar, wrapping her arms around his waist. His face contorted in a rictus of pain, as every injury he had sustained practically sang. "Spike, you're alive!" Faye let her joy show only for a moment. She then reverted to her normal bossy, crass manner. "You ASSHOLE!" She snapped, standing behind the bar, her face inches from his. Her hands shook, as she balled them into fists, her arms rigid at her sides. Spike was backed into the proverbial corner, the shelves of drinks pressing into his back. He raised his hands in defense.
"What?!"
"WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Faye yelled, every person in the bar turning to look at her.
"Right now, I wish I was." He muttered, his eyes averted.
"You at least should have called. Jet and I are worried sick." Spike looked at her in disbelief. "Why didn't you use your com?"
Spike withdrew the communicator from his back pocket. It was smashed to pieces. He held it up as evidence, a look of 'What now, Miss Thang?' on his face.
"Well fine." She huffed, crossing her arms.
"Gee Faye... I'm glad to see you, too." He ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. It was a weight off his chest to know that he wasn't completely alone.
"You baka! Incompetent, lunkheaded, fuzzy-haired baka." Faye's eyes welled with tears.
"I'm ...sorry... Faye." That was his soft spot. Dames cryin'. He didn't mean to hurt her. But then again, he didn't mean to hurt Julia. Spike looked at his shoes for a long while. "I'd figured that you guys had left me behind."
"We didn't know if you were dead or alive! Why would we desert you?"
Spike was amazed by her emotion. He didn't know what to do at that moment. So he put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, tears threatening to fall. "Faye..." he sighed. This was tough. "...thanks. ...for ...caring. I guess..."
Faye blinked rapidly. Whoa! Had he suffered some sort of personality-reordering head-trauma? First he apologized, now he was thanking her! He was such an ass. But she cared for him. Couldn't help herself. She smiled.
"Uh... Faye.. ggrmph!" Spike was caught-off guard as she stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. What in the hell had he done to merit this?!
"Mmm... you're welcome.." She smiled sexily, their noses practically touching.
Spike was still stunned. He'd appreciated the display of affection, sure, but this was freakin' him out something fierce. That was when two long, pointy fingernails found the wound in his side, and jabbed. HARD. Spike screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
"BUT YOU'RE STILL AN ASSHOLE!!!"
***cue neato-screen-wavy-thing for end of Spike's flashback***
"Sometimes I sleep
Sometimes it's not for days
And people I meet
Always go their separate ways"
On Ganymede, at the Waterfront Bar, Jet sat, finally able to relax in what seemed like years. An empty glass was in front of him, ice cubes clinking and shifting as they melted.
Jet leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. He had arrived on Ganymede an hour ago, and this was his destination. The Waterfront Bar was where he'd had his first drink as a young man. This was where he'd made his decision to join the ISSP.
Angelina, the barmaid, waved at him. "Need anything else, Jet?"
"I'm fine, Angel." He smiled, and nodded.
Angelina was the proprietor of the bar, and had opened it when she was 25. She was in her early fifties, and her hair was a pretty salt-and-pepper gray, with a slight wave to it. She still wore it loose, like she had when it was more strawberry blonde than gray.
"All right. I'll be here if you need me." She smiled, and turned, chatting with a lady who sat at the bar. From his table in front of the bar, Jet watched her. She was one of those people who never changed. No matter what they went through. Angelina had seen people come and go, buildings go up, businesses close. Angel had an ear for blues, a head full of wisdom and advice, and a smile that could light up a room.
The Waterfront was a decent place, a nice escape from the bustle of the business district that was only two blocks down. The entire bar front was glass, letting in the glow of the sunlight that reflected off the Gumble Channel. Gumble Channel was the ferry way between the lower class slums and ghettos, and the shining beacon of the capital city.
All in all, it was a great location, if you wanted to sit down with your buddies and have a few drinks, to either cheer the government, or condemn it. This was middle ground, a halfway house, for blue collar and white collar alike. Angelina served them all, with the same charming, matronly manner she had in her youth. The business ranged from slow and easy-going, to packed, especially on the weekends, after the dayshift got off work. And the real perk was that Angelina's Waterfront was open 24 hours.
Jet loved it here. Peace and quiet, quiet and peace. He took a deep breath, rocking to and fro on the back legs of his chair. "You still cater to smokers here, Angel?" he called, holding up his pack.
"Hell yeah, Jet. Go right ahead, honey." She said eagerly. "Need an ashtray?"
"It'd be nice." he smiled, plucking a cigarette from his pack. He then felt around his pockets for his lighter. "...now where'd I put that damn thing..." he muttered. He didn't have to wonder, as Angel sat an ashtray on the table, and with the other hand, flicked open her lighter. "Thanks." He smiled, cupping her hands between his to light his smoke.
"Anytime, hon. You need another drink?"
"Please. Lao Chu."
"It's about time you ordered that." she laughed, pushing her hair from her face as she went to the bar. "You're the only one around here who drinks this stuff." She fetched a bottle of Lao Chu from the shelf, along with a fresh glass with ice.
"I like my alcohol strong. And it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and have a decent drink." he chuckled.
"I know." She set the bottle and glass down, adding. "Your bed is in the back. I changed the sheets yesterday." Angelina didn't like her patrons to drink, then try to get home. She either taxied them home herself, or had a few cots set up in the back. And Jet was one of her favorite customers.
"Hmm... Must've expected me."
"Yes indeed. I expect you at least once a year."
"That predictable, am I?"
"As the seasons, Mr. Black." Angelina smiled, patting him warmly on his cheek. Jet chuckled a little and flicked an ash off the end of his cigarette. Predictable? Feh. Not hardly. Not in the past few months, anyway.
"You're a doll, Angel." he called after her, popping open the bottle and pouring himself a glass.
"I know, Jet." the woman snickered, fixing a drink for the young lady at the bar, the only other customer. "What've you been up to, lately?"
"Eh... the usual."
"Still a cowboy, eh Jet?" She set the woman's drink down on a cocktail napkin, and smoothed her apron, some sort of odd psychosomatic habit she'd developed over the years.
"Cowboys 're the only men I can respect, in this day and age. Everyone's got a secret agenda, nowadays."
"Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
Sometimes when you're alone
All you do is think"
"You're preachin' to the choir, honey." She snorted, as Jet sipped his booze. He knocked another ash into the ashtray, and sighed, looking out the window.
"You still doin' the same old same old?"
"I'm too old to do anything else, even if Quince wants me to stay at home."
"Quince?"
"My nephew. Juliet's youngest kid." Juliet was Angelina's twin sister, a housewife, with what seemed like a litter of kids, and a slew of grandkids Jet was sure she was working on what would be a crapload of great-grandkids. Angelina and Juliet were as different as night and day. Angelina was single, worked, and did what she pleased. Juliet was the tame one. She'd gotten married to some beaurocrat when she was 18. Had her first daughter when she was 19, and made it a point to spit out another baby every two years. She had something like 10 kids. "He keeps beggin' me to leave the bar to him, and stay in the house. He says that this world isn't made for an old head like me. That there's too much crime. But I keep tellin' him no. I says to him that I can't learn new tricks." The woman looked remorseful for a moment. "I'm old, Jet. Set in my ways. And there was crime in my day. That's when all these mafia bosses were still about violence and stakin' out their turf. That was crime. Didn't a day go by that some scumbag crimelord didn't go under, courtesy of a rival. Now it's quiet, Jet. The syndicates are as old as I am, even older. And they're gettin' complacent in their old age. Not me, though. I'm still goin' strong." A pound of her fist on the bar accented her words. "And I ain't ready to be put out to pasture yet, damnit."
"You 'n me both, Angel." Jet laughed over the rim of his glass. He butted out his cigarette, and rubbed his eyes. To him, Angelina didn't look old. Her gray hair was the giveaway, yes, but other than that, it took a close look to notice. She had faint lines on the corners of her mouth, from that ornery smile she usually wore, and crow's feet on the edges of her blue-gray eyes, once again, from smiling.
Jet was worried about something, and Angelina had an eye for things like this. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, she made her way over to Jet, and pulled up a chair. "Somethin's botherin' you, honey. I haven't seen you act like this since the day you got outta the hospital." Jet glanced at his cybernetic arm.
"Yeah..."
"Tell me what's the matter..." She looked over her shoulder. The other customer was on the way out, slinging her purse over her arm. "Take care, Jezz. Drive safe, now."
"You got it, Angelina." the woman smiled respectfully, and left.
"Okay, Jet. Spill." she commanded in that motherly tone she used for serious situations. "And if you give me any lip I'll give a tug on those big ears of yours." Her threat was playful, accented with a half-smile.
Jet managed a smile, and poured himself another glass of Lao Chu. "All right. But I hope you got time for a story."
"All the time in the world." she nodded, and twisted the cap off of the whiskey. "Be a dear and put another nail in my coffin, would ya, Jet?"
"Sure, Angel." He handed over a cigarette, waited for Angelina to light it, and then began his tale.
Back on the Bebop:
"Where could he be, Spike?" Faye grumbled, sitting on the couch next to him. The pair were sharing a couple of beers and some Chinese take-out, courtesy of Spike. She nibbled nervously on the ends of her chopsticks, after shoveling a portion of brown noodles into her mouth. "I find one, only to have the other vanish. Ugh. Men. So juvenile."
"Ain't we, though?" Spike said, exhaling a puff of smoke. He put his beer down, and stared into space. "Jet just needed some time off, Faye. He'll be back."
"You'd better be right, Fuzzy, or I'll eject your scrawny ass into space."
"Sounds fun."
Faye glared at him, as he wore his usual goofy grin. Now what? "So..."
"So.." Spike knew it was coming. The beginning of the questioning.
"...what happened down there?"
"Another part of me died."
"Spare me the prose, Spike." Faye glowered at him. She didn't feel like hearing him dance around the subject.
"The Dragons' 're no more."
"Vicious?"
"Dead. Killed 'im."
"Oh."
"...Julia... she's dead too." Spike's words had an eerie finality to them, and they hung in the air, like the ghost of the woman he loved.
"Julia?!" Faye's eyes went wide. Julia was dead? Faye saw the image of her. Slender, blonde Julia. Like something out of a beauty magazine. Faye had only known her for a few hours, but still.. it wasn't right. Women weren't meant to die like that. Especially when it was over love.
"Yeah. While we were escaping from Anastasia's." Spike could hear Annie correct him. 'Don't call me that! Only one person can call me by that name.' Her chubby face, followed by Mao's genial, round visage, appeared in his mind. "I told her to get down... but..." Spike nearly choked on his words.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Faye looked at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "Such a sad..."
"It was inevitable, I guess."
"How could you say that?!" Faye blurted, her head snapping up to look at him.
Spike went to respond, but a suddenly yell of "HEELLOOOOOO!!" cut him off. Then there was the alarm.
"What in HELL?" Faye jumped up. Spike went to the computer, where odd clicks and noises were blaring through the speakers.
"...ED?" Spike looked at the screen in disbelief.
"Spike-Person! Edward is happy to see you! Papa Jet said that you had gone for good!" Edward grinned, leaning in close to the computer.
"Yeah... I'm still here. Ain't got rid of me yet." Spike chortled, leaning on one hand, over the desk. "And what are you doing?"
"Edward... and Woof" She was prompted to add Ein's name after a whine came from behind her. "Want to visit Spike-Person, Faye-Faye.." She was cut off by Faye yelling 'ITS JUST FAYE, THANK YOU!'. "And Papa Jet."
"You're on Earth, right?" Spike was prepared to plot a course to the planet.
"Nopers! I'm outsiiiiiiide!"
"How?"
"Edward has hitched a ride-slide-drive to the Beboppy! Thanks to Seeeeeyyyymourr!" She grinned. Spike's mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. "Will Spikey-Wikey open the door to let Ed and Woof-Woof in? Welcome mat!"
"Sure Ed. How far away are you?"
Edward blinked several times. "Edward is here."
He and Faye exchanged glances. "Explains the alarm. They must've come in right along side of us. Ed must have hacked in and put a delay on the proximity buzzer."
"Pain in the ass..." Faye muttered, looking away as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Spike grinned. "Okay, Ed. I'm going to go set up the hatch. I'm sure you'll know when it's ready."
"Right-O, Spikey!" Edward's back went rigid, as her face was nearly swallowed up in a monstrous grin. She saluted, and signed off.
"What a kid..." Spike shook his head, as he wandered over to the control board, making the necessary preparations. Faye remained on the couch, finishing her beer.
"I'm just a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or alive
Wanted
Dead or alive"
A half an hour later, Edward and Ein came racing down the gate connecting one ship to another. "SPIKE-PERSON!!" She howled, the Tomato balanced precariously on her head.
"Hey Ed!" Spike greeted the girl eagerly, stooping to one knee to catch the girl, computer, and dog in his arms. "Fffaaah!! Dog spit!!" Spike howled, as Ein assaulted him with a volley of doggy kisses. He tried to rid himself of the taste of dog food, hair, and breath by scraping his tongue against his teeth. It didn't work. He instantly cursed himself for being so damned sociable.
Faye, watching as Spike carried his odd load into the lounge, shook her head. Spike Speigel, the man who said he hated dogs, kids, and women, was now host to all three 'annoyances'. Amazing how he'd changed. Maybe he had developed a bit more respect for what life entailed.
The Tomato was deposited on the floor, along with Ein, who ran circles around Spike's feet on his nubby legs. Ed still clung to Spike, now hanging for dear life onto... his head.
Ed nuzzled Spike's unruly mop of hair, her arms inhibiting Spike from seeing and probably breathing. Her skinny legs were wrapped around his neck, as Spike tried desperately to pry the sharp-jointed child off. "Ed... there's a little thing called breathing... and I'd really like to keep doing it, if you get me." With one final yank, he pulled Ed off, holding her by the waist. Ed wriggled and writhed like a Sea Serpent from Titon, now locking her arms around his torso. "Gah... Ed..." Spike gave up, throwing his hands in the air.
"Edward has missed Spikey and the Bebop! Reunion-bunion-TURNIP!"
Faye covered her smile with her hand, as Spike walked, stiff legged, Edward's lower half dragging between his legs. "Yeah, I missed you too, Eddo." Spike sighed, reaching for another cigarette.
Edward turned her face up, carving Spike another bellybutton with her pointy chin. "Spikey really missed Edward? Edward is happy!" She let her arms go, and dropped to her rear end, as Spike walked over her, plopping on the couch.
Now it was Faye's turn to be served Edward's special display of caring. Ed, still sitting on her duff, tossed her feet over her head, doing a backwards somersault. When she landed on her bare feet, she turned, and launched herself at Faye, who was helpless to defend.
"ED! Get the HELL off me!!" Faye tried to dislodge Ed, who had enclosed her in a cage of arms and legs.
Spike looked over at her. "Cool it. Just let the kid get it out of her system... EEP!" Spike put his hands in the air, scared shitless, as Ein, in one not-so-gazelle-like leap, jumped into his lap. Spike looked open-mouthed at the dog, who turned around once, and laid down on Speigel's lap. Still holding his precious cigarette aloft, Spike stared angrily at the canine. "Off. Before I take up my promise to eventually salt and eat you." He pointed in the direction of the kitchen, to accent his words.
Ein paid no attention. He just laid his head on his white-socked paws, and watched Faye and Ed, his ears twitching occasionally. Spike was all idle threats to him. Besides, the twerp'd never be able to catch him. And if he did, one solid bite on his nicotine-stained fingers would send him running for cover.
"Faye-Faye-Faye-Faye-Faye... FAYEFAYE!!!" Edward was chanting.
Faye could only endure the embarrassing torment, unsure as to what to do. Spike sneered at her.
"Having fun?"
"Shut up, asshole."
"Admit it. You missed her."
"Did not... OOOF!!" Faye's cheek was smashed ruthlessly, as Edward ground her own cheek against it. "OWW Ed!! Tha' hurz!!" Faye winced under the sharp pain.
Edward drew back, holding onto Faye's shoulders. She looked the woman square in the eyes, her own hazels wide, matching the grin on her face. "Did Faye-Faye miss Edward?"
Ein barked for Faye to respond.
Faye took a deep breath, mostly to keep from strangling Spike, who smirked at her, looking positively gorgeous, in a smartassed, mismatched eyes, green-haired sort of way. "Yes I did, Ed." Faye resigned with a heavy sigh.
"WAAHOOOOO!!" Ed's howl nearly burst Faye's eardrums.
Now that two of the three adults were subject to her affections, Ed perked up on Faye's lap (who still wanted nothing more than to get the skinny kid off her), looking around, the goggles in her bushy hair threatening to slide off. "Where is Papa Vroom Jet?"
"I'm a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or alive
Wanted
Dead or alive"
The Lao Chu was gone. The whiskey wasn't far behind. The ashtray was a graveyard of used butts. And Jet was finished talking. "And now... you know... the rest of the story..." he pressed his fist against his lips, to stifle a belch. His eyes were bloodshot from cigarette smoke and liquor. Jet never let himself get this inebriated. Never. But what the hell. He was on vacation, and he had just told a sob story. You only die once.
"Poor Jet. My poor Jet." Angelina, who could hold her liquor better than any man, nodded sadly, patting his left hand. Jet wouldn't have noticed, had he not been looking at it, or had heard the clink of one of Angel's rings against the metal surface. "So you never found him?"
"Nope." Jet lifted his glass, only to find a puddle of melted ice and runny alcohol. "Damn." he muttered, and plopped the jigger down, the patterns cut into the sides of the heavy glass reflecting the dusky light coming from outside. He'd been here hours. "An' I don't think we'll find him, either..."
"You never know, Jet. Who knows how your karma will turn out." Angelina stood. She put her index finger in her glass, and her middle in Jet's. Pressing them together, she used her ring finger and thumb to support the glasses as she lifted them up. The bottles were carried in nearly the same fashion, her fingers holding the necks like a vise.
"Yeah, true. I don't know. I shouldn't have left, though. Trusting that woman with 40 thousand Woolongs is an accident and bad credit waiting to happen. Hell.. not bad credit. Worse credit." He smiled morosely, as Angelina scurried to the bar, putting the glasses and bottles in their respective places.
The bells attached to the front door rang out in warning, as three men entered the bar. Angelina's head jerked up. Jet was propelled into mock sobriety, his instincts kicking in. He may be only a burned-out cop, but he was still a cop nonetheless.
"Quince?!"
"I'm sorry, Auntie. But you won't listen. It's time for force." the leader said, a shadow built from a trenchcoat and fedora. He looked to the two thugs that flanked him. "Detain them. Use any means necessary."
"Papa Jet is gone?" Ed pouted.
"On vacation." Spike muttered, as Edward sat on the floor, her fingers pressing the keys to the Tomato one by one out of boredom.
"When is Papa coming back? Edward comes all this way to have Papa Jet go buh-byes. Not fair for Edward." Ein whined his agreement.
"I know, Ed." Spike offered no other support.
"A-HA! Edward will find Vroom, then they can go visit!"
"The point of a vacation is to get away from your surroundings. Not have them tag along." Faye growled. A beep from the computer made her look up.
Spike looked at Ed. "Do it. We don't have to visit, but it'll be good to know where he is."
"Yes-SIR!" Ed saluted, as Spike went to the computer.
"Uh...?" Spike blinked at the man who appeared on the communication line, channel 3. "May I help ya?"
The man, dressed in a uniform, looked up from his magazine. It was about time they decided to answer. He folded the book backwards, oogling Miss April for a moment longer. He then looked up, scratching at the corner of his mustache. "Yeah. Is Jet there?"
"He's ..unavailable just yet." Spike lied. He recognized this guy. It was Bob, one of Jet's leads in the ISSP. And when this guy was involved, decent bounties were the result.
"Oh. Well..."
"I'll give him the message. I'm his partner."
"Oh..! You're Spike, eh?" Bob grinned. Spike played along, imitating the man's smile... with a little less enthusiasm.
"Yeah, that's me."
"Well I got a bit of a problem. Syndicate activity. They're an old bunch, but their recent recruits are up to some new tricks."
"Eh?"
"Yeah. They're called the Rising Phoenix. Home base is on Ganymede. ISSP's been cleaning up after them for days now. They're looking for something, what with all the influx of bodies with broken limbs... before they were killed."
Spike winced. These guys were out for information. Or attention. That's usually when they practiced torture. "I'll tell Jet."
"That's the hitch. Jet's got a bounty on his head. Issued by the Rising Phoenix. I don't know how they posted it, but they did. The head official of the syndicate has it out for him." Bob shrugged off-handedly, like he was announcing the weather. A window popped up beside the video link, showing Jet's face, his information, and a 300 Million Woolong bounty. Hot damn. These guys aren't playing.
Spike's eyes nearly bugged from his head. Jet? With a price on his head? That's when he heard Ed.
"Ganny-meeede-meede-meeeeeeeede!!" she hollered, raising her hands in the air. "That's where Papa Jet beez!!"
"Shit." He growled, and looked at Bob, who nodded, and closed the line. Spike stood, a man on a mission. He loosened his tie, and lit another cigarette. He looked at Faye, his eyes hard, his jaw set. "We're going after him. This is serious."
"Allll-riiiiight!!!" Edward sing-songed, as Spike stormed off to the helm.
"I come back from the dead, only to save your ass." Spike huffed, sitting in the seat. He set a course for Ganymede, pushing the MONOsystem to its limits. Time wasn't on his side. "Damnit Jet. You owe me big."
"I walk these streets,
A loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps
Cause I might not make it back
I've been everywhere
Still I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces
And I've rocked them all
I'm a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted
Dead or Alive"
--Saddle Up, Space Cowboy